


hell is the talking type (love i've been dreaming of)

by meyecy



Category: Generator Rex
Genre: Blind Date, F/F, First Dates, Guns, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, but it's like not a big deal it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 14:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19320253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meyecy/pseuds/meyecy
Summary: Black Knight, of course, is not lonely. With Providence gone and the Consortium crumbled, she's adjusting to life after the worldwide cure just fine, laying low until society forgets about her.The last thing she needs, then, is to fall for a woman on a forum Caesar signed her up for.





	hell is the talking type (love i've been dreaming of)

**Author's Note:**

> originally made for the generator rex amino's pride event! includes one or two minor references to my unnecssarily extensive fanon black knight backstory, but knowledge of it is not at all required to enjoy this fic. the show never got her the backstory development she deserved so black knight is my oc now and i WILL knife fight the entirety of man of action for her.
> 
> caesar wasn't supposed to be in this fic at all but now he won't leave

Black Knight, of course, is not lonely.

 

Here, seven months and twenty-two days after escaping the cure, she isn’t lonely. What she’s feeling is just — boredom. This must be what boredom is.

 

She’s gone off the grid. Dispatched the main heads of the Consortium. Bought a nice penthouse apartment for herself to watch the remains of it crumble from.

 

The ache in her body and little twitch in her fingers is not loneliness. Is not her being unused to having no directives to follow. It’s just boredom, plain and simple, at the lack of a job or goal. It’s the same way White would feel when they went too long without an assignment, when they only really spoke to their handlers and didn’t see anyone else for weeks at a time.

 

_ Ugh _ . She doesn’t want to think about White. He’s been on the news a few times since the cure, mostly when he finally exited that suit and his office and when Providence was disbanded. Caesar tells her he’s moved in with Six and Holiday and Rex — Caesar himself and his new makeshift lab having been relegated to a smaller building in the garden to prevent any accidents from blowing up the whole house — although she can’t imagine why he thinks she cares about how White Knight is doing.

 

His cheerful texts and random calls about whatever project he’s got going on now are annoying at best, but Black hasn’t blocked Caesar’s number yet. She can at least put faith in his scattered brain and single-minded focus on whatever he’s got going meaning on that he won’t leak any information about her or her location, and besides, he seems to have the uncanny ability to find a way to bother her anyhow.

 

After the fourth burner phone became half-sentient with whatever virus he tried to use to track her down, it was easier to just give him her personal number. Still, that doesn’t mean it was a  _ good _ choice.

 

Caesar had goaded her into joining some forum or other so he could send her more detailed information on whatever project he was working on, which Black Knight only agreed to so she would only receive one text with a link instead of twelve texts full of rambling at random times. That had all been well and good, whatever, she played along if only to keep him satisfied and have something to fill her time.

 

The issue, really, was that she had gotten interested.

 

Not in Caesar’s projects as much, which she had gotten more than her fill of during the Nanite Project, but in one of the other forum users. She didn’t post much of her own work, but eagerly contributed to posts and chatted with other members. Although she always seemed vaguely exasperated with Caesar, which, really, Black Knight couldn’t blame her for.

 

She was bright, and cheerful, and even tried to speak to Black on a few occasions despite her not posting anything of her own and only responding to Caesar. 

 

That was two months and three days ago. Black had been reluctant to speak at first, and tried to push her away, but after admitting that Black never actually pursued a college education after being “homeschooled” all her life she’d just said  _ I think it’s wonderful that you’re interested in teaching yourself now! :) it’s never too late to start learning. And I can help you too. _

 

The bad part was that she — Rebecca — had been right. Black Knight never considered herself someone interested in science, couldn’t consider herself someone interested in science. After all, she is — was a soldier for the Consortium. Their best soldier, after White Knight left. Things like hobbies and interests beyond her job were never an option, much less bioengineering or artificial intelligence.

 

Even now, despite her newfound interest in the subjects, both of those leave a very bad taste in her mouth some days. Black likes picking things apart to see how they work in a manner she knows White would describe as ‘a kid pulling the wings off of a bug’, a fascination without strict moral boundary, but as soon as any conversation turns to the human body she closes the tab and takes a long, long nap with a cat curled against her stomach purring the nausea away.

 

They never spoke about it, and Rebecca never acknowledged it, but she hasn’t been discussing anything related to medical procedures or human modification for almost all of those two months despite it being her area of expertise.

 

The worst part by far, then, is that Caesar — who cannot find his own damn  _ coffee mug _ most mornings — has picked up on it too. And does not have the tact to keep his mouth shut.

 

* * *

 

 

“You should ask her out on a date.”

 

“What.”

 

Caesar is sprawled out on Black Knight’s sofa, her cat in his lap, looking over her builds. Although the cure didn’t affect her, the lack of nanites in the air means she has less material to build from, so using them has started being much more exhausting.

 

That’s not the point, though. The point is that he just suggested, casual as anything, that she messages a woman she barely knows and invites her to a blind date.

 

Black Knight has never been on a date.

 

“It’s the next logical step, isn’t it? You like her —”

 

“— I do  _ not _ —”

 

“— and she seems to be interested in you. What’s the issue? Are you nervous?”

 

Black Knight yanks her arm back from his grip and disassembles the whip he was looking at, ignoring the look of childlike disappointment on his face when it slips through his fingers and disappears. Despite everything, he still considers her nanites some of his best work, and withholding his ability to research it is the one surefire way she’s found to make him listen.

 

Really, the fact Caesar managed to escape prosecution after the whole cure event is almost impressive. Almost.

 

“I’m not  _ nervous _ ,” she snaps, “just aware of the fact this is a bad idea. I’m a mercenary with half your housemates still actively trying to track me down. Why would I risk myself for something as frivolous as a  _ date _ .”

 

Caesar shrugs and drops the subject, scratching her cat behind the ear. She knows that shrug and tiny hum all too well, though, having seen it countless of times whenever he tried to pitch some idea or other for her to pass on to the Consortium during the Nanite Project. Until she gives in, he’s just going to bother her over and over at inopportune times.

 

“... Fine,” Black Knight says at last, ignoring the smug smile he gives her, “but when this goes wrong I won’t pretend it’s a surprise. Or that it is my fault.”

 

* * *

 

She is going to kill Dr. Caesar Salazar. She is going to kill him slowly, deliberately, painfully, and with extreme prejudice. 

 

He had agreed to set up a blind date for her and Rebecca, apparently aware of where she lived in the city and able to help Black Knight pick a restaurant because he knew that area of town better than she did. She should have known. She should have  _ known _ , from his surprising eagerness to help and the fact he knew exactly who Rebecca was. This was just one of his stupid little experiments from the start.

 

… But the cold metal of Dr. Rebecca Holiday’s gun against her throat gets her blood pumping in a way nothing has been able to in quite a while. Even if this is a trap or an experiment, at least it’s something more exciting than sitting at home.

 

“What are you doing here,” Rebe—  _ Holiday _ hisses, and Black Knight is glad they met up a little way from the restaurant rather than in the middle of the busy main street. Swallowing against the barrel of the gun, she gives an easy, practiced smirk, spreading her hands out to show she’s unarmed.

 

Or rather, that she’s not holding a weapon right this second, the knife strapped to her thigh hidden by her outfit.

 

“Is that any way to greet your date?”

 

Holiday adjusts her grip on the gun, glaring. Involuntarily, Black is struck by how striking the expression is, brilliant green eyes almost burning with intensity. Despite everything, Holiday’s resolve is to be admired. Even if it’s a little inconvenient.

 

“Where is Eve.”

 

Ah. Black Knight picked a name when she signed up for the forum, something easy and common and something that hasn’t been her name for years, decades, or maybe it never really was at all. She regains her composure within moments, nails digging into her palms. 

 

The smirk comes a little less easy this time.

 

“‘The Black Knight’ would be rather easy to trace if it was my legal identity, wouldn’t it? Not to mention how obvious it would be if someone with that name only replied to Dr. Salazar.”

 

Holiday pulls the gun back, very slowly, shocked and suspicious and — although she tries very hard to mask it — maybe even a little intrigued. After a few seconds more, she sighs, and puts the safety back on before putting it back in her purse. If Black allows herself a moment to think about it, the fact Holiday was this well-prepared for anything is… a little attractive. Definitely the most intelligent person in that little group.

 

“... You’re Eve, then?” Still suspicious, but much more openly interested now. Black can work with that, she thinks, holding out a hand.

 

“It’s a name I use when the situation demands it, yes. Now, I understand your hesitation, but we still have a reservation if you want to interrogate me further.”

 

Holiday’s gaze moves from Black Knight’s face, to her hands, then finally back to meet her gaze when she takes the offered hand.

 

“... I guess it would be a waste to pass up the food. And the opportunity to question you.”

 

Holiday’s hand is warm, and surprisingly strong, and holds on to Black Knight’s far longer than is strictly necessary.


End file.
